


Strapped

by PeachyWoNiu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Childhood Trauma, Coming Out, Daddy Issues, Dark, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Repressed, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Forgiveness, Heavy Angst, Love, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Suicide, Trauma, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 09:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyWoNiu/pseuds/PeachyWoNiu
Summary: It’s been four months since Dean last saw his dad. It’s been about a month since he’d slept in a real bed. It’s been about three days since his last meal. It’s been about one day since his little brother had any food. He’s strapped for cash and it’s been about two minutes since the thought of selling his body crossed his mind.This is inspired by something Jensen Ackles said about Dean at a Con. About how he would have done anything for his little brother when they were growing up. Be warned it's not a nice fic at first, but when he grows up I'll try and give him a happy ending.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 39





	Strapped

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to trigger anyone. Truth be told, I kind of triggered myself while I was writing this. But like a writer possessed I had to finish. I would love to hear what you think or even if you just want to talk.
> 
> Dean is underage for the first part of this story. I personally don't do well with sexual stuff that occurs while characters are underage. And because of that it doesn't get as intense as it very well could. I'm sorry if that makes some people feel that the situation he finds himself in unrealistic. But I couldn't do it any other way.  
In the second part he will be of age. 
> 
> I will say too that this WILL have a happy ending. Don't know how, but I will make it so.
> 
> Big love to you all.

~ 0 ~

Part One – Lobby

Dean Winchester’s leg bounced agitatedly as his eyes locked on the two men standing across the street at the mouth of the alley. He’d watched the older of the two fidgeting nervously for fifteen minutes in the lobby of the apartment building before rushing out when the younger arrived. Now as he sat, chewing absently on a ragged nail, he watched as the older man took hold of the other’s elbow and led the way into the shadows. Dean’s whole body paused. The older man took out what looked like five twenties and pressed them into the young man’s hands desperately.

For a moment they argued. Dean held his breath. Finally, the young man glanced around before nodding and pressing his lithe body against the older man’s. They kissed. Nothing spectacular. Dean had seen and done better with girls from the dozens of high schools that he’d been to growing up. The younger guy clearly wasn’t into it, but the old man seemed to be living for just this moment. After a few minutes, they pulled apart.

From where Dean sat on the rain slicked bus bench, it looked like they started arguing again. Dean let out a low whistle, impressed by the young man’s hustle. Dean’d done it before himself. Usually on lonely women. You lure them in with promises of a great time before getting pissed about some little thing they’d done. You’d have their money or their jewelry and they’d be wondering what they did wrong. He watched as the young man landed a solid slap on the older guy’s cheek; could practically hear it.

_You could do that_, Dean suddenly thought to himself.

Disgust and panic swept through his core.

_Did I really just think that I should whore myself out to some old fuck?_ He wondered, shooting to his feet.

Just then the young man stormed off, leaving the old man standing alone in the alley. Dean watched the hustler disappear into the crowd, counting the fresh bills that had been stuffed into his pocket before. It was a lot of money. More than Dean had seen in weeks.

Dad was off on another bender. Had been for a while. Not like that was new. Ever since Mary, Dean’s mom, died in the fire that claimed their home when he was only four years old, his dad had never been the same. This time though, John had neglected to leave much money for his two boys. Dean had luckily saved up cash of his own and hidden it away for just such an occasion.

Dean blinked, the sting of tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He knew now was not the time for self-pity. Wiping angrily at his face with his hands, he sniffed and focused back on the older man who still stood stunned in the alley. Suddenly, Dean’s mind conjured up an image of his little brother waiting for him back at the crappy hotel that he’d spent the last of their money on. He couldn’t let Sammy starve.

“Damn it.” Dean mumbled to himself, flipping up his coat collar and dashing across the road.

It was getting late, hardly any cars were on the road, but still the sound of Dean’s boots against the wet pavement were swallowed by the city. The older man did notice him approaching though. As Dean came within five feet, he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and jerked his chin in a sort of greeting.

The older man stood taken aback for a moment before clearing his throat and asking, “Can I help you?”

“If you got anymore cash on you,” Dean grumbled, eyeing the man up and down. “_I_ can…help _you_.”

The man spluttered, eyes widening. Not wanting to let his nerves get the better of him or his potential source of money, Dean cleared his throat and took a step closer and said, “Look man, I saw you and the other guy.”

The man’s mouth closed abruptly.

Swallowing hard, Dean closed his eyes and willed himself strength from the latest reservoir deep in his soul. When he opened his eyes again, he shot the man a confident smirk and continued, “Seems like he might have left you wanting a bit more than just a make out.”

For the space of five heartbeats, the man stared down at Dean, his face completely unreadable. Dean stared back defiantly despite feeling his legs tremble a little. Finally, the older man gave Dean a small nod.

Relief was the furthest thing from Dean’s mind. As the man led him toward the entrance of the apartment building, he felt his stomach was trying to simultaneously shrivel away and hurl itself out his throat.

_What in the actual fuck am I doing? _

Clenching his hands in fists at his side, Dean followed.

~ 0 ~

The older man, who quietly introduced himself as Gale, led Dean through a confusing set of hallways and up a staircase. It hadn’t looked so big on the outside. Just a typical three-story apartment building. Eventually they stopped in front of a door that appeared more well taken care of than its neighbors. Gale unlocked the door with a trembling hand and pushed inside, flicking on lamps as he went. Dean trailed after, trying not to look like any of this was phasing him.

“Sorry about the mess,” Gale said, picking up a handful of mail off the small blue love-seat in his living room.

“No worries,” Dean answered, ignoring the couch in favor of walking through the small living area.

It was packed with piles and piles of books and old photographs. Blue prints of WWII era planes and tanks lay interspersed with the other documents. Being a bit of a mechanical nut himself, Dean quietly appreciated the collection, happy for a distraction from what he was about to do. He hadn’t even noticed that Gale disappeared into the kitchen until the sound of the kettle whistle cut through his thoughts.

“So, what, you a collector?” Dean called, plucking curiously at a stack of diagrams.

“In a way,” the older man answered, seemingly also glad for a distraction. “My father fought in the second great war and my brother and I fought in Vietnam. Not that either of us really wanted to.”

_Doesn’t that sound familiar_, Dean thought bitterly, his face darkening.

The steaming mug coming up next to his shoulder startled him so badly that he flinched away from it. If Gale was surprised by Dean’s reaction, he didn’t let on. Calmly, he motioned for the younger man to join him on the couch. Tentatively, Dean did.

“How old are you, boy?”

The tone rubbed Dean the wrong way. Like this old man was underestimating him. Shooting a stubborn glare up at the man he answered, “If you’re worried about me being legal, I am. Turned eighteen last month.”

He was lying of course. He’d only turned seventeen. But he needed the money, and he would never report what was about to happen.

Gale hummed in acknowledgment, setting his own mug down on the cluttered coffee table. It was here that Dean realized once again that this man was going to pay him. Pay him for services. A bolt of fear crashed through Dean at the thought, making his whole body stiffen. The older man seemed to notice and let out a sad laugh.

Thinking that he may have screwed up his chances at getting the money he so desperately needed, Dean blurted, “You want a blow job?”

The laughter died from the man’s throat as he took in the serious look on Dean’s face. For a moment their eyes locked, and Dean could sense that Gale was looking for something in his green eyes. Suddenly, Gale was leaning closer and Dean couldn’t help but react on instinct. He pulled back. Didn’t seem to phase the old man though. One of his large hands reached up and slid along Dean’s clenched jaw almost lovingly.

Dean shut his eyes tightly, waiting for Gale to kiss him. But it never came. Instead, he felt the couch shift as the older man stood. Taken aback, Dean’s eyes flew open. Gale smiled sadly and asked, “When’s the last time you ate, boy?”

The sound of Dean’s stomach rumbling was answer enough. Gale chuckled and said, “How about I make you a sandwich, and you keep me company for a while?”

“What…? I mean, don’t you want to…?”

Gale opened the fridge and took out packages of lunch meat and cheese and started work on making the food. He never answered the question. Completely unsure what to do, Dean sat dumbfounded on the couch, heart hammering in his chest. What the hell? Was this some kind of wine and dine? Couldn’t the old man just get it over with?

“This is going to cost you extra.” Dean called over the sound of Gale slicing a tomato, realizing through his panicked fog that this was opportunity to make some extra dough.

“Fair enough.”

~ 0 ~

The sandwich was barely on his plate for longer than ten seconds. Dean wolfed it down as soon as the first bite of turkey, ham, lettuce, tomato and cheese hit his taste buds.

“Good?”

“Mhmm,” Dean answered emphatically through his last mouth-full.

Gale hummed happily, offering the younger man the other half of his own sandwich. Dean happily took it without argument and polished it off in a matter of seconds as well. After a moment of watching Dean, Gale asked, “How long had it been since you ate last?”

The last bit of sandwich in Dean’s hands froze before it got to his mouth. Swallowing, he muttered thickly, “Couple days…maybe a little longer.”

Gale nodded knowingly before letting out a long sigh, “You reminded me of a Vietnamese boy that came into camp once. Wasn’t much older than you, come to think of it.”

_Why is he telling me this_? Dean asked himself, looking over at the man quizzically.

Seemed Gale recognized what was going through his mind and answered, “That boy tried selling himself too. Nearly took him up on the offer. But his eyes…”

Gale’s voice died in his throat as whatever memory his mind was conjuring up played out in his head. After a moment he blinked and remembered where he was. Shaking his head sadly he explained, “You got a similar look.”

Dean hung his head. He wasn’t going to get any money. He’d fucked up the chance he had because he couldn’t keep his appetite under control. He threw the last of the sandwich down on the plate like it burned his fingers to hold. Damnit his thirteen-year-old brother was waiting for him. Needed him.

“C’mon man,” he pleaded tearfully, looking up at Gale who sat stunned. “I’ll do whatever you want. You don’t even have to give me as much money as the other guy, I just…I need it.”

His whole body began to tremble with the effort of not bursting into frustrated tears. The food in his gut felt heavy and disgusting all of a sudden. The warmly lit room filled with comforts that his brother was going without felt dirty. Noticing this, like he could read the young man like a book, Gale reached out and silently tugged on Dean’s arm. For a moment the younger of the two froze up, not wanting to trust what was happening. But after a brief moment of hesitation, he gave in and allowed the man to do what he wanted.

Gale gathered up the young man against his side, securing him there with his large arm. At first confusion ruled Dean’s thoughts. He didn’t understand what this guy was doing. Eventually he calmed and chanced a glance up at the older man’s face. He sat with his eyes closed, looking perfectly content.

“I know he’s taking advantage of me.” Gale spoke suddenly, his brown eyes opening to meet Dean’s. “The young man you saw me with. Tod.”

For a second Dean didn’t understand who he was talking about, but then he remembered the young man and the hundred-dollar kiss.

“It’s pretty obvious, I suppose.” He continued softly, eyes never leaving Dean’s. Like they were his link to confessing. “But I was lonely. My brother died in the war. My family all left when they found out I had a predilection for…men.”

Gale reached up blindly, his hand ghosting up along Dean’s arm to his shoulder and then the hollow of his neck. His voice came out even quieter as he continued mournfully, “But he was beautiful…and said he wanted me.”

A strange sensation crept up. Heat in his cheeks from embarrassment, mixed with a strange cold chill that might have been fear, took away whatever color was left in his skin. Dean’s eyes widened as Gale very gently pressed his lips against his. It came without warning. The older man’s eyes finally closed and he leaned into the kiss. Dean’s own eyes were still wide open, staring at the wrinkled skin directly before him.

Gale lingered for just a moment longer, doing nothing aside from holding their lips together. Then he fell back against the cushions of the couch, watching Dean warily.

An utterly crushing realization came to Dean as he sat there stunned. It wasn’t that he’d just gotten kissed by an old man. No, it was because the old man hadn’t been kissing him. Not really. He could see it in Gale’s defeated posture now. He really was lonely.

Noticing the look of pity cross Dean’s features, Gale chuckled sadly and said, “I’m not going to ask you for anything more, boy. Don’t worry.”

With a small grunt, Gale reached out and opened a small box on the coffee table. Inside was a bundle of bills clipped by a metal fastener. The man pulled out the whole thing and pressed it into Dean’s numb hands. There must have been at least four hundred bucks. Dean hadn’t seen that much money in his entire life.

Recoiling from it, trying to press it back into the older man’s hands, he stuttered, “I-I can’t-”

“You can,” Gale cut in, patting Dean gently on the cheek. “Now you go on and get out of here.”

Avoiding looking at Dean’s face, Gale stood up and shuffled towards a closed door. As he reached in and turned on the light, Dean could see a bed neatly made. Before he disappeared inside, Gale called over his shoulder, “Spend that wisely, you hear me?”

Silence fell as the bedroom door closed behind the man easily two decades older than him. Dean sat completely at a loss. He sat there for a long time, looking down at the clip of money and all that it represented. The tears that came were allowed to flow for a time before he stood and shoved the money determinedly into his pocket.

Mind made up, he headed to the door Gale had disappeared behind and pushed it open. He found the old man sitting on the edge of his bed, newly changed into pajamas. He turned soulful brown eyes on Dean, silently asking what he was doing. In response, Dean shucked his coat, kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed next to the old man.

Stubbornly ignoring the blush creeping up his neck, Dean mumbled, “Mind if I crash here?”

For a moment, Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at the old man. But when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he glanced up at him. Gale sat with a stupid grin on his face, grateful tears falling down his worn cheeks. The younger man’s heart wrenched painfully in his chest at the sight.

Gale turned out the light and slid under the covers. Without speaking, Dean curled in next to him, cautiously resting his head against the man’s chest. When the initial surprise wore off, Gale slipped his warm arm around Dean’s shoulders and held him tight. It was surprisingly wonderful. Dean had never been held like this before. Sure, he’d comforted Sam when they were growing up, but this wasn’t the same. He felt safe…looked after.

It was overwhelming. Dean dug his fingers into the older man’s pajama shirt without thinking, but held on even after realizing. For some time, he struggled to keep himself from crying all over again. Gale just held on to his shuddering frame, gently rubbing small circles into his back and telling him stories about being in the army, until eventually Dean fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

~ 0 ~

It wasn’t quite time for the sun to rise. The lone window in Gale’s bedroom was only just starting to brighten. Dean blinked up at it, listening to the sound of life returning to the city. He was afraid to leave the bed. At first it was the thought of never finding comfort like this again. But after rolling over to search for the older man and finding his side of the bed empty and cold, he dreaded what he might find.

He couldn’t even explain how he knew what the old man must have done. Something about the stillness of the air?

It took every shred of strength and thoughts of Sam to get him out of bed. He put on his boots, taking his time to lace them up. After that, he scooped up his jacket from where he’d dropped it on the floor and cautiously stepped out into the still lamp-lit living room. No sign of Gale. Dean went over to the kitchen and immediately noticed the carefully wrapped sandwiches waiting on the counter.

There was a note in cramped cursive that read: _Best of luck. Don’t use the bathroom._

Dean took up the food, ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking.

Near the door that led out to the hall was another door. This one was closed, but light was coming from under it, brighter than the orange glow of the lamps in the living room. A dark shadow interrupted the center of the beam, however; the sight of which chilled Dean to the marrow of his bones.

The muscles of his jaw worked as he stepped through the small apartment. When he stood in front of the door he locked up. Quietly, panic and dread drowned him. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring silently at the closed door. Long enough for wisps of early morning light to start filtering through drawn curtains. Again, he mustered the strength from deep inside and reached for the handle. It turned easily.

When his eyes fell on the purple face of Gale, Dean wasn’t surprised. He’d been expecting it. But the sight of his…what was he a friend? No. A fucked up lover? No. A father? No. Whatever he was, looking at the tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth and the wide open, blood shot eyes gazing directly into his own, was enough to break his heart. The pain in his chest grew as he stood there looking at the man who had changed his life in the space of a few hours. It grew so much that Dean’s free hand unconsciously rose to clutch at the spot above his heart.

The sound of a door closing loudly from down the hall startled him. Clutching his jacket and the sandwiches, Dean turned and left.

_I need to get outside_.

It was cold for a spring morning. Probably had something to do with the rain that rolled through early last night. A shiver ran up Dean’s spine as he shouldered open the front door of the apartment building, but he ignored the urge to put on his jacket. The feeling was waking him up. Making him feel human again. He needed to put as much distance between him and what lie inside the building as he could. He strode through the opaque plumes of his breath with nothing but getting back to his little brother on his mind.

A little before seven in the morning, Dean made it back to the motel. With trembling hands, he unlocked the door and slipped inside. Sam wasn’t awake yet. Seems he’d been studying judging from the textbooks strewn across the small dining room table next to the kitchenette. Despite everything, the sight made Dean smile. He dropped the sandwiches on top of the books and strode over to his brother lying face first on the closest of two twin beds. Very light snores escaped from the littlest Winchester.

Fresh tears started pouring down Dean’s cheeks. They were hot but he could not bring himself to wipe them away. All of what happened was starting to hit him again. Hard. He craved human connection. Not being able to stand being alone any longer, Dean crawled into bed next to Sam, quickly spooning his little brother and clutching him to his chest like he might disappear at any moment.

His little brother started and asked groggily, “Dean?”

He couldn’t find his voice to answer, merely buried his face into the back of Sam’s neck. Ordinarily his brother would have elbowed him and booted him off the small bed, but Sam could sense something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean’s face.

Dean nuzzled all the more into Sam, willing him to let him have this for just a few minutes and shut up.

They lay like that for some time, both brothers dozing fitfully but remaining locked in each other’s arms. Sam didn’t understand why his brother was acting like this. He wondered if he’d gone and done something stupid. But even that didn’t make sense, not when his stoic big brother was acting like _this_.

“Talk to me.” Sam urged a couple times, noticing Dean trembling or struggling to hide the fact that he was quietly crying. But the older Winchester refused to budge.

Eventually when the normal sounds of the hustle and bustle of the city started up again, and Dean had calmed, he released his little brother from his grasp. Sam immediately turned and caught sight of Dean’s pale face and red rimmed eyes. But he was trying to hide it.

In true Dean avoidance fashion, he strode over to the sandwiches, tossed Sam one and said, “Got us some grub. Dig in!”

Sam was too hungry to try to argue for long. His own stomach had been running on empty for close to two days now. As he studied the sandwich, he realized that it had been carefully wrapped in clear plastic. It screamed homemade which was even more confusing to the younger Winchester.

“Where’d you get this?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Swiped it from a guy at the bus stop.”

The answer was quick and smooth, but Sam wasn’t fooled. His brother’s gaze never went any higher than chest level, a clear tell that he was lying.

They ate in silence. Dean only ate half of his own sandwich before giving it to Sam muttering something about, “Not being that hungry.”

Internally the younger brother shrugged and kept eating, sparing his brother glances as he moved about the room picking up stray clothing and stuffing them into their duffel bags. Excitement filled his belly as Sam called over, “Is Dad coming back?”

“No,” Dean answered, stiffening. “But we’re getting out of this shit hole.”

“We don’t have enough money to –”

At this Dean turned, a spark of life returning to his face as he dug into his pocket and withdrew a clip of cash. Sam’s eyes widened at the sight. Breathlessly he asked, “Dean, how did you get that?”

Dean’s face darkened for just a moment before he smirked over at his little brother and boasted, “Won it hustling some dudes at pool.”

Sam looked up at Dean in awe.

“And we can sell this thing too for some extra cash.” Dean pointed at the silver clip holding the bundle of money together. Sam nodded excitedly and grinned.

Striding across the room, Dean set his hands down on Sam’s shoulders and promised earnestly, “I’ll always take care of you.”

Blinking in surprise, Sam nodded and smiled again before getting to his feet and wrapping his arms around Dean’s midriff. Burying his face in his brother’s chest he mumbled, “I know.”

Sam would never know the look of pain that filled Dean’s face in that moment. Nor would Dean admit to it ever being there. As he stood holding his brother, Dean told himself that he would never think about how it felt being in that stranger’s bed ever again. And he would make damn sure that they were never that strapped for cash ever again.


End file.
